The baby teeth sprout only to fall out.
Get pushed out rather, by kings of the arc,
rooted by nerves and vessels.
May I have no abscess, fistula, periodontitis.
The sound of metal against my teeth makes me cringe.
Then impressions and x-rays:
how my teeth have grown.
My dentist is never happy.
He wants more brushing, more flossing.
My teeth are too yellow, too crooked,
my gums too puffy, too pale.
Deciduous, primary, permanent teeth.
Enamel, dentine, pulp, gum, cementum,
I try so hard.
But here come the sealants and implants,
the fillings and crowns.
Slowly the enamel wears down,
and cavities prevail.
My dentist shows no mercy
on my stained and rotten teeth.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the Soul
PoesiRandom Poems I have written throughout my life....and just so everyone is clear, I ain't a poem writer ^.^
